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seasoning an alligator pear, "that you are aware of the

fact that you will import a good deal of trouble for your-
self into Kentucky if you take back the wrong man --

that is, of course, if you take anybody back?"
"Thank you for the salt," said the sheriff. "Oh, I'll

take somebody back. It'll be one of you two gentlemen.
Yes, I know I'd get stuck for damages if I make a mis-

take. But I'm going to try to get the right man."
"I'll tell you what you do," said Morgan, leaning for-

ward with a jolly twinkle in his eyes. "You take me.
I'll go without any trouble. The cocoanut business hasn't

panned out well this year, and I'd like to make some
extra money out of your bondsmen."

"That's not fair," chimed in Reeves. "I got only
$16 a thousand for my last shipment. Take me, Mr.

Plunkett."
"I'll take Wade Williams," said the sheriff, patiently,

"or I'll come pretty close to it."
"It's like dining with a ghost," remarked Morgan,

with a pretended shiver. "The ghost of a murderer, too!
Will somebody pass the toothpicks to the shade of the

naughty Mr. Williams?"
Plunkett seemed as unconcerned as if he were dining

at his own table in Chatham County. He was a gallant
trencherman, and the strange tropic viands tickled his

palate. Heavy, commonplace, almost slothful in his
movements, he appeared to be devoid of all the cunning

and watchfulness of the sleuth. He even ceased to
observe, with any sharpness or attempted discrimination,

the two men, one of whom he had undertaken with sur-
prising self-confidence, to drag away upon the serious

charge of wife-murder. Here, indeed, was a problem
set before him that if wrongly solved would have

amounted to his serious discomfiture, yet there he sat
puzzling his soul (to all appearances) over the novel flavour

of a broiled iguana cutlet.
The consul felt a decideddiscomfort. Reeves and

Morgan were his friends and pals; yet the sheriff from
Kentucky had a certain right to his official aid and moral

support. So Bridger sat the silentest around the board
and tried to estimate the peculiar situation. His con-

clusion was that both Reeves and Morgan, quickwitted,
as he knew them to be, had conceived at the moment of

Plunkett's disclosure of his mission -- and in the brief
space of a lightning flash -- the idea that the other might

be the guilty Williams; and that each of them had decided
in that moment loyally to protect his comrade against the

doom that threatened him. This was the consul's theory.
and if he had been a bookmaker at a race of wits for life

and liberty he would have offered heavy odds against
the plodding sheriff from Chatham County, Kentucky.

When the meal was concluded the Carib woman came
and removed the dishes and cloth. Reeves strewed them

table with excellent cigars, and Plunkett, with the others,
lighted one of these with evident gratification.

"I may be dull," said Morgan, with a grin and a wink
at Bridger; "but I want to know if I am. Now, I say

this is all a joke of Mr. Plunkett's, concocted to frighten.
two babes-in-the-woods. Is this Williamson to be taken

seriously or not?"
"'Williams,'" corrected Plunkett gravely. "I never

got off any jokes in my life. I know I wouldn't travel
2,000 miles to get off a poor one as this would be if I

didn't take Wade Williams back with me. Gentlemen!"
continued the sheriff, now letting his mild eyes travel

impartially from one of the company to another, "see if
you can find any joke in this case. Wade Williams is

listening to the words I utter now; but out of politeness,
I will speak of him as a third person. For five years he

made his wife lead the life of a dog -- No; I'll take that
back. No dog in Kentucky was ever treated as she was.

He spent the money that she brought him -- spent it at
races, at the card table and on horses and hunting. He

was a good fellow to his friends, but a cold, sullen demon
at home. He wound up the five years of neglect by strik-

ing her with his closed hand -- a hand as hard as a stone
-- when she was ill and weak from suffering. She died

the next day; and he skipped. That's all there is to it.
It's enough. I never saw Williams; but I knew his

wife. I'm not a man to tell half. She and I were keep-
ing company when she met him. She went to Louisville

on a visit and saw him there. I'll admit that he spoilt
my chances in no time. I lived then on the edge of the

Cumberland mountains. I was elected sheriff of Chatham
County a year after Wade Williams killed his wife. My

official duty sends me out here after him; but I'll admit
that there's personal feeling, too. And he's going

back with me. Mr. -- er -- Reeves, will you pass me a
match?

"Awfully imprudent of Williams," said Morgan, putting
his feet up against the wall, "to strike a Kentucky lady.

Seems to me I've heard they were scrappers."
"Bad, bad Williams," said Reeves, pouring out more

Scotch."
The two men spoke lightly, but the consul saw and

felt the tension and the carefulness in their actions and
words. "Good old fellows," he said to himself; "they're

both all right. Each of 'em is standing by the other like
a little brick church."

And then a dog walked into the room where they sat --
a black-and-tan hound, long-eared, lazy, confident of

welcome.
Plunkett turned his head and looked at the animal,

which halted, confidently, within a few feet of his chair.
Suddenly the sheriff, with a deep-mouthed oath, left

his seat and, bestowed upon the dog a vicious and heavy
kick, with his ponderous shoe.

The hound, heartbroken, astonished, with flapping
ears and incurved tail, uttered a piercing yelp of pain

and surprise.
Reeves and the consul remained in their chairs, say-

ing nothing, but astonished at the unexpected show of
intolerance from the easy-going-man from Chatham

county.
But Morgan, with a suddenly purpling face, leaped,

to his feet and raised a threatening arm above the
guest.

"You -- brute!" he shouted, passionately; "why did
you do that?"

Quickly the amenities returned, Plunkett muttered
some indistinct apology and regained his seat. Morgan

with a decided effort controlled his indignation and also
returned to his chair.

And then Plunkett with the spring of a tiger, leaped
around the corner of the table and snapped handcuffs

on the paralyzed Morgan's wrists.
"Hound-lover and woman-killer!" he cried; "get

ready to meet your God."
When Bridger had finished I asked him:

"Did he get the right man?"
"He did," said the Consul.

"And how did he know?" I inquired, being in a kind
of bewilderment.

"When he put Morgan in the dory," answered Bridger,
"the next day to take him aboard the Pajaro, this man

Plunkett stopped to shake hands with me and I asked
him the same question."

"'Mr. Bridger,' said he, 'I'm a Kentuckian, and I've
seen a great deal of both men and animals. And I never

yet saw a man that was overfond of horses and dogs but
what was cruel to women.'"

THE HYPOTHESES OF FAILURE
LAWYER GOOCH bestowed his undivided attention

upon the engrossing arts of his profession. But one
flight of fancy did he allow his mind to entertain. He

was fond of likening his suite of office rooms to the bot-
tom of a ship. The rooms were three in number, with a

door opening from one to another. These doors could
also be closed.

"Ships," Lawyer Gooch would say, "are constructed
for safety, with separate, water-tight compartments in

their bottoms. If one compartment springs a leak it fills
with water; but the good ship goes on unhurt. Were it

not for the separating bulkheads one leak would sink
the vessel. Now it often happens that while I am occu-

pied with clients, other clients with conflicting interests
call. With the assistance of Archibald -- an office boy

with a future -- I cause the dangerous influx to be
diverted into separate compartments, while I sound

with my legal plummet the depth of each. If neces-
sary, they may be haled into the hallway and permitted

to escape by way of the stairs, which we may term the lee
scuppers. Thus the good ship of business is kept afloat;

whereas if the element that supports her were allowed
to minglefreely in her hold we might be swamped -- ha,

ha, ha!
The law is dry. Good jokes are few. Surely it

might be permitted Lawyer Gooch to mitigate the bore
of briefs, the tedium of torts and the prosiness of processes

with even so light a levy upon the good property of humour.
Lawyer Gooch's practice leaned largely to the settle-

ment of marital infelicities. Did matrimony languish
through complications, he mediated, soothed and arbi-

trated. Did it suffer from implications, he readjusted,
defended and championed. Did it arrive at the extremity

of duplications, he always got light sentences for his
clients.

But not always was Lawyer Gooch the keen, armed,
wily belligerent, ready with his two-edged sword to lop

off the shackles of Hymen. He had been known to build
up instead of demolishing, to reunite instead of severing,

to lead erring and foolish ones back into the fold instead
of scattering the flock. Often had he by his eloquent

and moving appeals sent husband and wife, weeping, back
into each other's arms. Frequently he had coached

childhood so successfully that, at the psychological
moment (and at a given signal) the plaintive pipe of

"Papa, won't you turn home adain to me and muvver?"
had won the day and upheld the pillars of a tottering home.

Unprejudiced persons admitted that Lawyer Gooch
received as big fees from these revoked clients as would

have been paid him had the cases been contested in court.
Prejudiced ones intimated that his fees were doubled.

because the penitent couples always came back later for
the divorce, anyhow.

There came a season in June when the legal ship of
Lawyer Gooch (to borrow his own figure) was nearly

becalmed. The divorce mill grinds slowly in June. It
is the month of Cupid and Hymen.

Lawyer Gooch, then, sat idle in the middle room of
his clientless suite. A small anteroom connected -- or



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